


Rude Awakenings

by TrueTattoo



Series: Winter's Revelations [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots, M/M, Multi, Other, Pining, Platonic Cuddling for now, Sleeping Together, Touch-Starved, Vampires, Whump, Witcher - Freeform, Witchers do not function in the winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/pseuds/TrueTattoo
Summary: Geralt is awoken in the middle of the night by a vampire, a vampire who has been lost, and needs a friend."There was an odd moment of reality and dream mixing, and he was questioning if he was actually seeing what he was. He hauled himself up to his elbows quietly and stared at the form across from him, apparently with its head on his desk. His swords were in the front room, gathering a good amount of dust now that monster hunting season was over for the year. The silver dagger he kept in his drawer was just far enough away from the middle of the bed, where he was nestled, that he would have to move, and both his back and his knee were hurting from the onset of the cold.It was only then that he realized that the form, slumped at his desk, was asleep. Soundly, as the form let off a small ‘chur’ and began to snore softly. It had a quill in its hand. Geralt could smell the chalky smell of ink, dried ink.It had been here for a while, and Geralt had slept through its arrival.Fuck the winter"





	Rude Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [embeer2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/gifts).



> A gift fic that is shameless... and will continue into a series of shorter stories. 
> 
> Specifically for my wonderful Beta: Embeer2004, who has put up with my shit writing now for several months and hasn't given up on me yet!
> 
> This will be worked on only when I have time between the big one. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!

Geralt knew he was dreaming. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was nestled into his bed, draped in all manner of furs and comforters. He also knew that he was smelling ice on the air. Rain, swiftly marching its way into sleet, and soon into the first real snow of late fall. But now, he was staring at a shadow. He squinted into the darkness of a dream and he could finally make out the form.

“Regis?”

His voice echoed around him, creating a cacophony, and his voice swiftly morphed into crows’ calls. Regis turned and looked at him; his expression was warm, inviting even. Geralt felt himself move to him without willing his body to do so. He reached out for the vampire, but his hand passed through his body like it was mist. Geralt frowned. Regis was speaking, looking away to something else in the shadows.

Geralt couldn’t hear him.

“Regis... Come on… where have you been? I have been worried…”

Regis turned to him and smiled. From out of the shadows another form materialized. Geralt jolted in his dream and in the real world.

“We… return…”

Blue eyes bright against the darkness. Regis was practically glowing. Geralt attempted to speak but couldn’t…

“We return to you, _Geralt of Rivia_ …”

When he felt the vampire’s icy fingers hit his arm, a bolt of electricity jolted through him. He blinked into the dark of his room when he realized his amulet was vibrating subtly. He looked out through the room and saw a shadow sitting at the desk.

There was an odd moment of reality and dream mixing, and he was questioning if he was actually seeing what he was. He hauled himself up to his elbows quietly and stared at the form across from him, apparently with its head on his desk. His swords were in the front room, gathering a good amount of dust now that monster hunting season was over for the year. The silver dagger he kept in his drawer was just far enough away from the middle of the bed, where he was nestled, that he would have to move, and both his back and his knee were hurting from the onset of the cold.

It was only then that he realized that the form, slumped at his desk, was asleep. Soundly, as the form let off a small ‘chur’ and began to snore softly. It had a quill in its hand. Geralt could smell the chalky smell of ink, dried ink.

It had been here for a while, and Geralt had slept through its arrival.

_Fuck the winter._

He sniffed the air, trying to not be loud about it. Vampire… definitely. There was the tang of iron that hung around them, a metallic sharpness, and then there was an earthy one. Geralt was having issues discerning the smell of the vampire from the smell of the cold outside. He vaguely wondered if this was what Regis smelled like under that perfume of spices he bathed himself in. He couldn’t see anything of the slumped over form, it was covered in a thick fur coat, and the dampness had mostly dried.

The question was which one was _this?_

Well, if the vampire was polite enough to attempt to write a letter, maybe he was polite enough not to rip his face off if Geralt woke him up. Geralt sat up and grunted, watching the vampire warily. The vampire didn’t stir.

Geralt cleared his throat, which turned into somewhat of a coughing fit. He kept his eyes on the vampire warily as he cleared mucus from his throat, and still nothing. He frowned.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

Geralt pulled himself out of the covers and into the chill air. He didn’t want to actually reach over and touch the vampire, and if he was going to die he was going to be the first witcher to do so in his bed, _dammit._ So he grabbed one of his shearling slippers that rested haphazardly beside the bed and then threw it as hard as he could.

It hit the wall with a _crack_ , and then the slipper landed neatly on the head of the sleeping vampire, who startled awake. Geralt was almost giddy with the idea that he would be the first witcher to die in his bed and he scrambled back under the blankets with the gusto of a child waiting for yule. The vampire grunted and pulled himself upright.

“Hey, dunno who you are,” Geralt started, “but you are in my house, and I have no idea what you are doing here. Explain yourself. Not that I don’t enjoy company, but sleeping in my bedroom without me knowing is a little odd.”

“<Shit>.” Geralt’s ears perked. Nazairi. Then his stomach began to drop out as the vampire pulled himself upright and looked to Geralt. His eyes glowed eerily bright in the dim of the room. Dettlaff. Dettlaff was in his room, sleeping, wrapped in a thick fur coat, and he looked like he had been there for several hours. There was an ink smear on his cheek. Geralt could see his hair was an unruly mess of curls, and he looked gaunt, but rather unchanged other than that.

“I… uh…” Dettlaff started dumbly.

“It’s winter, it’s the middle of the night. I have time, so take it.” Geralt felt his own mutations key up, and Dettlaff blinked at him.

“I am deeply sorry to intrude upon you…” Dettlaff started raising his hands like he was trying to coax a hungry wolf. Geralt felt a smirk making its way across his face. “I wrote you this letter….”

Dettlaff reached for the paper and realized he had smeared the ink. He frowned.

“Gimme the gist of it, so I can get back to sleep, or you can kill me.” Geralt snorted as he nestled back down into the furs. Dettlaff looked affronted, then alarmed. Then he finally sighed. Geralt watched the vampire wrestle with himself, and he didn’t look to be moving.

“Where is Regis?” Guilt washed its way across Dettlaff’s features.

“He is tracking me,” Dettlaff sighed, “last I checked he was just a little over half a day behind me. I was hoping that me stopping here would force him to confront you, and you could let him read the letter.”

Dettlaff looked forlorn, and Geralt sat back up.

“Why are you running?”

“I heard… what you did for me.” Dettlaff pointedly changed the subject and caught Geralt with his moon bright eyes. “I heard you defended my decision to kill Rhen… Syanna. Regis would send his crows to find me, and they always managed to.”

There was a soft and sad smile. Geralt felt a wash of sympathy for the vampire.

“I defended you yes, but you decision to send your… henchmen to destroy Beauclair…”

“Was a grave error.” Dettlaff’s voice was broken. “I am not that kind of person. I don’t want to be that person. I… used to walk the streets I stained with blood, happy. I sold toys, Geralt, toys! When it started, I thought… I thought I was just, that I was in the right. That these people propped the ruler up that created a creature as miserable as Syana. But then… I saw it. It was… a little girl… one I had sold a doll to not less than a week previous. She… she died with that doll in her hands, her blood stained the sidewalk, she was torn apart… and I ran then. Ran to Tesham Mutna, to flee from my error. I… didn’t know what to do, I tried to call them off but they had gotten blood. My panic fueled them, and I lost control, I…”

Dettlaff’s voice had risen with each agonized word. When he stopped speaking Geralt frowned. It was still dark in the room. He lit the candles with Igni and stared at the vampire. Dettlaff had hunched over, his eyes screwed shut and his hands over his mouth. He choked against his hands, and every pre-conceived notion Geralt had of the vampire before now shattered. He scrambled out of the covers.

“N-now… I have been running for… for so long, months.” Dettlaff choked as Geralt stood up. “Running from the images, from the horrors I created. And… I…. I have been running from Regis. My best friend in the whole world, and I cannot face him. He loves life so much, and he was teaching me, and… I ruined everything. Absolutely everything.”

Geralt’s heart broke a thousand times over and he automatically found himself wrapping the vampire in his arms. The dam broke, and Dettlaff gripped Geralt’s sleeping tunic and buried his face in it before a wail rose from the vampire.

“I… I see her. I …. I see her in my dreams… haunting me… broken, pure.” Geralt felt the tears soaking his shirt and gripped Dettlaff tighter. “And then… all I can think about is her mother… the sadness, the loss of something so… beautiful. How could I have even thought that destroying this precious little life was worth it to seek revenge?”

Geralt tensed as images flashed through his mind of his time on the path, and all the times he had failed children. All the times he was too late, all the times he arrived just to see them rend limb from limb, to the children he had sentenced to die for the baron’s wife, and then all the children that had been killed at Kaer Morhen. Without realizing what he was doing his hand found Dettlaff’s curls and he stroked his hand through them softly, like he did with Ciri when she was young and distraught.

“We have all made mistakes that have resulted in the loss of the most innocent of us.” Geralt said softly, stroking at the soft locks. Dettlaff sobbed and nuzzled into Geralt, his hands kneading against Geralt’s stomach. Geralt shivered, and heard the tell tale sound of sleet hitting the ground and the roof of the house.

“Come on big guy… getting chilly.” Geralt hauled a snotty blinking Dettlaff upright. Dettlaff coughed and wiped at his face with the coat he wore, and allowed himself to be led. Geralt flopped him onto the edge of the bed and Dettlaff sat down, watching Geralt with red rimmed eyes as he grabbed one of the thicker furs and draped it over the vampire, then weaseled his way under it as well before bringing Dettlaff back into his embrace.

“We all make terrible mistakes, I have made them, made many of them.” Geralt allowed Dettlaff to nuzzle into him once more. “It’s a part of living, and it sucks. I know Regis though… and I know you haven’t ruined anything. He is going to be angry, sure, for you leaving, and running when all he wanted to do was to help. He has probably been sad and worried this whole time as he tracked you, and there probably is no small amount of trepidation he is feeling at the moment, because you have come back here… and…”

Geralt felt cold air whip under his door, and saw the mist sneaking under the doorframe. His heart leapt with a sudden joy that whiplashed his emotions beyond what he was usually capable of handling. He felt the prickle of tears at his eyes, compounded by the emotions, and the tiredness, and the soreness. Regis appeared in his vampire form, silent, and ready to fight. He had gained a bedraggled beard and he looked back and forth between Dettlaff and Geralt for a moment, before confusion ran across his features.

“You came back here, to Corvo Bianco. He probably thinks you are here to kill me.” Geralt finished, his voice turning husky with the force of keeping his emotions in check, staring straight at Regis as he did so.

“No!” Dettlaff didn’t realize Regis had appeared. “No! I would never! I… I just needed to leave that note… He would have understood. I didn’t… I didn’t want to upset him, and he followed me. I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He is going to hate me Geralt, I know it… I went against everything he was trying to teach me!”

Regis slipped into his human form fluidly. He looked slightly better. His hair was longer, thicker, fuller. Still gray, and it hung in loose unruly curls that he had attempted to tuck behind his ears. His beard looked neglected, and Geralt sniffed the air. There was no scent of cinnamon, anise, ambergris, or any sort of perfume. Regis, Geralt realized, smelled like rain. Rain and blood. He looked stricken by the scene in front of him. Tears tipped over as he approached Dettlaff and Geralt.

“If you think, for a moment, that I would hate you over this? You are sorely mistaken.” Dettlaff looked up with wide eyes, his whole body tensing like an animal ready to strike. When Regis dipped down and embraced both Geralt and Dettlaff, the vampire wilted into the touch.

“Here… here you are… finally… and… you are safe, both of you.” Regis was crying now too. Geralt crushed himself to both of them, as the emotions from the previous months rolled into him, and buffeted him with an intensity he had been trying to ignore.

“Why didn’t you write me Regis?” Geralt’s voice was muffled and broken. “Just a letter, just a single word, anything. I… I had you back for a few weeks. Back from the dead, and you… you ran. To him, to a friend that needed you. But… I needed you too… I… you.”

“You what?!” Dettlaff jerked, but didn’t get very far.

“I am sorry, Geralt… I just… I didn’t… oh gods…” Geralt felt them then, the hot streaks of tears washing down his face.

“Everyone left me!” Geralt buried himself deeper into whoever he was clinging onto. “I… I was all alone, I don’t want to be alone. Ciri… a witcher now… Boys… on the path… Yen, Triss, want nothing to do with me… Dandelion has Priscilla… and… I… did….”

“I am sorry… so sorry…” Regis said.

They wept together, the sleet and freezing rain creating a static backdrop to their mourning joy, and the bitter sweetness of their reunion.

“I thought you would hate me…” Somehow they were all three on the bed now, Regis was somewhat damp and his skin was still cold to the touch.

“Dettlaff, I do not hate many things in this world, you made a mistake… your erred.” Regis pulled himself up and Geralt used the moment and the freeing of his arm to wipe at his eyes. “I wish you had sought me when you knew you were in trouble. As it was, you hid from me. Your distress through the bond was so thick I actually packed up shop in Brugge and made my way down here to find you once again. I tried… I really did. And you pushed me away!”

“I… I didn’t mean to.” Dettlaff said, looking miserable all over again. “When I got the first letter… I thought it was a joke. I threw it out. But then they gave some really personal information, that only she would have known about me… and… I just… I couldn’t face you. You told me not to kill…”

“And yet, we killed many times hunting for her… didn’t we?” Regis lowered his head.

“I told you to wait, I could have handled it.” Geralt frowned. “Both of you didn’t have to kill…”

“But we did.” Regis said. “Here in all my years hoping for a reunion with you Geralt… I show up, and I am every bit the blood sucking violent fiend I tried to convince you I wasn’t. The crow, the guards.”

He let off a small shaky laugh that caused Dettlaff to wince.

“I haven’t been able to abstain again… searching for Dettlaff. I didn’t have the strength to.” Regis hissed to himself. “I broke myself for you Dettlaff. Twice… once to brew the resonance…”

“The resonance?”

“It’s a potion… had to get him riled up – part of that involved him drinking blood and taking…”

“Sangurium.” Dettlaff said, as he looked at Regis. Regis shied away from his gaze, his expression partially hidden by his beard.

“In order for that to work… The blood has to be in the exact same state as the donor.” Dettlaff said looking at Geralt, and then back to Regis. Geralt felt the skin prickling at the back of his neck. A clue he had missed. He went over the actions and reactions of Regis in an instant.

“It was…”

“But… My beloved was….” Dettlaff started and was immediately cut off.

“It was.” Regis’ eyes were fierce and full of fire. Geralt frowned.

“Why didn’t you write, Regis?” Geralt turned to the black eyed vampire. “You sit here and scold Dettlaff for not contacting you when he was in trouble. Yet you didn’t say word one to me… Just a ‘Hey Geralt, I am alive, haven’t seen you in seven years… isn’t that crazy? Well off I go to find my homicidal friend who you just spent several months in prison for.’ Not even a ‘Hey I am fine, be back when I can.’ Or a ‘Fuck you witcher.’ Nothing.”

Geralt shuddered as Dettlaff’s warm hand found his shoulder and heated him through his thin night tunic. The support felt strange, and kindled a small flame he thought he lost when Dandelion opted to stay in Novigrad.

“What could I have said…” Regis looked up to Geralt. Geralt felt anger rip through him.

“You are one of the single most verbose people on the face of this planet.” Geralt bowed his back, holding back a growl. “You, had an answer for everything, even the things we didn’t ask outright. You can’t tell me that you couldn’t have spared a single word?”

“Geralt, sometimes, the silence speaks louder than any one word that can be uttered.” Regis said softly. “I honestly thought you were ok with me leaving, that you understood. We talked…”

“For a night Regis, and several times before that in small doses, and you actually ended one of them by putting me to sleep.” Geralt hissed.

“You were asking too many questions Geralt, and you were exhausted.”

“What was my one rule to letting you live, to letting you travel with us?” Geralt’s eyes were fierce, hurt. “Don’t use your damned vampire magic on me. If I am tired, I am tired! I can live with it, have lived with it.”

“You are tired now, and we interrupted your sleep.” Regis looked miserable.

“Can you just not… try to avoid the subject?”

Regis’ eyes were downcast, and Dettlaff was staring at the other vampire like he had grown a second head. Geralt had enough. He reached over and grabbed Regis’ shoulder. It was still ice cold. Geralt drew the vampire to him and wrapped his arms around him. Regis was shivering.

“Regis, I missed you, terribly.” Geralt’s voice was muffled. “I missed you so much when you died the first time, and when I got only a few days with you… It was like… you had died all over again. Like it was a fever dream. Even the duchy pretends the whole incident with the Beast didn’t happen.”

When Regis finally returned the embrace Geralt felt the tension bleeding out of his body. He felt Dettlaff’s hand on his shoulder and he automatically pulled away just enough to include the other vampire in his embrace. They sat there, calming, as the hiss of the sleet and rain turned softer. Lighter. Geralt watched as Regis softly laid his forehead against Dettlaff’s and felt a longing in his heart. The vampires must have sensed it, because the second he went to pull away, he found himself drawn to them. Their heads were resting against one another, eyes closed. As close as you could be without kissing, and Geralt found it nice. Calming. He always made similar motions with his brothers…

“We are idiots.” Geralt sighed.

“Without a single fraction of doubt my friend.” Regis agreed, his breath warm.

Geralt groaned when Regis pulled away, and Dettlaff groaned and stretched. The blue eyed vampire yawned and Geralt rubbed at his eyes.

Damn winter.

“I think we have intruded on your hospitality enough for one evening... Dettlaff, we should go.”

“No!”

“No!”

Geralt and Dettlaff looked at one another. Then looked back to Regis who was staring wide-eyed at them both.

“It’s snowing now, and it sleeted before.” Geralt hesitated. Why was he fighting for them to stay? He bit back a harsh dose of self loathing for being selfish and wanting someone, anyone around.

“We have no place to go… It’s warm here and I have been cold for so long, Regis.” Dettlaff spoke quietly. Geralt frowned at the vampire’s words, and Regis tilted his head.

“Corvo Bianco has a guest room… I suppose if we wouldn’t intrude?”

“To hell with your intruding Regis!” Geralt stood up. “You are sleeping here, in this room. With me, and Dettlaff. Me one side, you the other. Like the Hanza days.”

“Please… Regis…” Dettlaff’s tone was imploring. “It’s been so long…”

“Only if you can promise me he won’t become a snack in the middle of the night.” Dettlaff looked mildly affronted at Regis’ words.

“I guess he is saying I smell delicious.” Geralt looked at Dettlaff, whose face finally broke into a smile. A real smile, not the tight one that Geralt had become familiar with.

“If he has already broken his fast once for you, I would turn the warning on him.” Dettlaff looked up to Regis, who scoffed and was already taking his damp clothes off.

Dettlaff stood to disrobe as well. When all was said and done, Regis was left in his braies, as everything else was too damp, and too cold to allow in the bed. Dettlaff was in a patchwork gray under tunic, that had seen better days. Geralt was in his night clothes. There wasn’t any talking because all three of them were exhausted. Dettlaff was the first into the bed, as Regis had to fight with his own clothing, and Geralt made a trip outside.

When he came back in Regis was speaking quietly to Dettlaff in a language that Geralt didn’t recognize. Dettlaff was smiling sleepily, and Regis’ expression was fond. Geralt felt a rush of giddiness as he made his way around the bed and sidled in next to Dettlaff, who had finally laid down.

“Gotta warn you I’m a snuggler.” Geralt said, purposefully wrapping his arms around Dettlaff’s chest. Geralt expected the vampire to stiffen, to throw his arms off. He would have laughed, turned and that would have been that, but instead Dettlaff relaxed into the hold and shut his eyes. Geralt was stunned, and looked up at Regis with an almost panicked look on his face. Regis smiled down at them before making his way into the bed.

“Geralt isn’t lying.” Regis stated, as Dettlaff’s eyes opened just a little. “But what he also doesn’t realize, is that even though he is trying to make a joke, vampires are communal creatures when more than one of us gathers in a single spot. We live by the mantra of ‘the more the merrier’.”

Dettlaff chuckled, the deep sound rolling through Geralt. Dettlaff adjusted his arm and he pulled Geralt closer until Geralt’s cheek was nestled on his shoulder and soon he felt the vampire stoking at his back with his claws. Geralt let off a deep sigh as goosebumps prickled on his skin. Regis slid into the blankets and slid up next to Dettlaff, who more or less brought Regis into the same embrace, only on the other side.

Geralt huffed to himself.

_To hell with this._

He grabbed onto Dettlaff and snuggled into his warm body, the first warm body he had in his bed since the waning days of summer. Dettlaff sighed against him and his eyes drifted closed. Geralt’s eyes were fast heading that way as well when he felt a tentative touch on his arm. He looked up and saw Regis looking at him, an apology written on his face.

_To double hell with this!_

Geralt grabbed a hold of Regis’ hand and the other vampire momentarily sucked in a breath, and a wash of pain filtered over his features. Geralt kept a hold of the hand and started massaging it softly with his thumb. The wash of pain was replaced with a tentative hope.

“Sleep, Regis, we have time. We can talk in the morning.” Geralt yawned and felt his eyes closing.

He was warm and he was safe. He had a warm body beside him, and an old friend was back at last. Dettlaff’s hand had not stopped moving, the claws soft against his skin, and the motion began to lull Geralt into sleep. When he felt Regis shift and felt his grip tighten on his hand, he knew everything would be ok.

A smile was the last thing that Geralt saw on Regis’ face before he slid back into the realm of rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Friggan cuddlebugs!!!
> 
> Regis... Damn you and your pining
> 
> Poor touch starved Dettlaff... 
> 
> EVERYONE JUST NEEDS SOME HAPPY


End file.
